Charms of the Sea
by Dot
Summary: “There ain’t a lot known about Jack Sparrow before he sailed into Tortuga with a mind to go after the treasure of la Isla de Muerta…” Why is this? Perhaps because Jack Sparrow didn’t exist. Please R+R
1. Default Chapter

Charms of the Sea  
  
*Freedom has a thousand charms to show, that slaves, howe'er contented, never know.*  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, or Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm just borrowing him. So don't sue me, savvy? This is my first PotC fic. Please R+R.  
  
Chapter One  
  
It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.  
  
The sun was just rising, rays of light hitting the water just so, turning the sea into a pool of liquid turquoise. There was nothing else around them, nothing for miles, just that gleaming water. And out of it rose the Pearl.   
  
Jack Reade sighed and leaned against the railing. In all of his sixteen years, he's never seen anything like it.   
  
The Black Pearl was the most beautiful ship in the world. Jack was sure of it, and it wasn't just his part in the making of it that made him so sure. What ship could hope to compete with the glory of the black-sailed Pearl? It had dwarfed all other ships in the harbor back in England- it even dwarfed the huge sea, mast thrusting proudly into the lightening sky.   
  
And it belonged here, in the jewel-like waters of the Caribbean.   
  
He smiled. It belonged, just like he did.   
  
There were footsteps beside him; Jack looked up to see the captain, Henry Mitchell, smiling at him from his enormous height. "Cap'n," Jack said, and smiled back.   
  
"We should reach Port Royal tomorrow. It's been a good voyage, don't you think, Jack?"   
  
"Oh, yes. The Pearl… She's a marvelous ship."   
  
"That she is. Worthy to have been your father's last endeavor."  
  
Jack bowed his head and swallowed hard. "Yes. He would have been proud to see her completed," he replied, struggling to keep his voice even. A moment passed in silence; Jack knew the captain was thinking of his father, the elder Reade, designer of the fastest and strongest ships in all of Europe.   
  
Jack didn't want to think about him.   
  
"Captain, did you give any thought to my request?"  
  
Mitchell cocked his head and stared down at him. "Your request to join my crew here on the Pearl?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Jack replied patiently, even though he had made but the one request.   
  
Mitchell sighed, and Jack knew the answer. "Jack, you're a fine lad. But you're not cut out to be a sailor. You hadn't set foot on a ship until we left England, you know nothing of the life…"   
  
"I helped design this ship, Captain, this one and a dozen others. Give me a chance at least, I beg of you. There's nothing left for me in London, and there's nothing waiting for me in Port Royal."   
  
"I'm sorry, Jack-"  
  
"It's all I have left of my father." It was a last ditch effort, the very last card he had to play.   
  
Mitchell shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a shout came down from the crow's nest. "Pirates!"   
  
The captain didn't give Jack a second glance, just rushed to the helm. Jack leaned over the rail and stared out at the sea, searching for these pirates.   
  
He found them a second later, far out to sea, but rapidly getting closer. Jack pushed away from the rail and ran toward the helm, where Mitchell was conferring with his lieutenant. "Are we even their target?" Mitchell was asking, staring at the approaching pirates.   
  
"We are, sir… With the cargo we hold…" Jack gave the man a sharp look. He wasn't aware of any especially valuable cargo. He didn't reply however, and the lieutenant went on. "The question is can we outrun them?"  
  
To that Jack had to reply. "Of course we can. This ship is the fastest ever put out of England."  
  
"No one asked for your opinion, Mr. Reade. I suggest you retire to your quarters until this situation has been rectified."   
  
Mitchell nodded. "Go on, Jack."   
  
Jack nodded and turned away. They immediately went back to their conversation, and Jack slipped away, but not to his quarters.   
  
The sailors clambered all over the deck, readying cannons, readying guns and swords. He watched from a distance, staring at the men scurrying across the ship, in unison hauling and loading as they prepared for the attack.   
  
The ship was growing closer, the figures on the pirate ship's deck taking shape. The too were readying cannons, getting ready to attack the Pearl. Jack felt a surge of anger. His ship. They were attacking his ship. He'd slaved countless nights at his father's sickbed, drawing the plans for this ship by candlelight. He'd overseen the building of it in his father's name. And bloody pirates were about to attack it.   
  
A hand grabbed his arm suddenly, breaking him out of his angry reverie. "It is not safe for an untrained boy such as you to be on deck during a battle." Lieutenant Marshall steered him toward the stairs that lead down to the cabins. "I will not have you disobeying an order on board this ship, boy."  
  
"Lieutenant-"  
  
"I won't have an argument." He pushed Jack to the stairs. "If you ever hope to be on the crew of this ship- or any- you need to know how to follow orders, and you don't. I agree with the captain. You're not cut out for this, Jack." At that he turned away.   
  
Jack slipped down the stairs, anger slipping into sadness and confusion. He made his way to his cabin, then sat on the bed and reached for the roll of parchment beside it and the pen and ink wrapped in a piece of soft leather beside it.   
  
He'd just began to scratch out a rough outline on the parchment- a drawing of the Pearl, of course; he'd been obsessed with the boat for too long to draw anything else- when the first cannon shot was fired.   
  
The blast rang through the air. He couldn't tell who had fired it at first, just hoped it would blast into the other ship's hull, and not damage the Pearl. A moment later, he heard the sickening thud and crack of a cannonball plunging through wood, but breathed a sigh of relief. That had come from far away- the Pearl was intact.   
  
The battled raged outside for he didn't know how long. He wished he could see it, wished he could do something. But no. He was stuck in his cabin, left only to clutch the parchment and count the holes the blasted pirates were making his ship. However, he could likewise count the holes the crew of the Pearl was making in the pirate ship… He found bitter satisfaction that the pirate ship was suffering more than his Pearl.   
  
He heard the splintering of wood, a cracking, and fell back onto the floor just in time, arms flying up around his head for protection. Sure enough, a cannon ball sailed right over his head and into the door, smashing through it and into the hall. He looked to where the ball had blasted through once the dust settled- and saw a chunk of blue water.   
  
A hole. They'd blown a hole the size of his head in the Pearl.  
  
"Stop blowing holes in my ship!" he screamed at the pirate ship across from him, at the top of his lungs even though he knew no one could hear.  
  
Suddenly a racket came from above… along with the silencing of the cannons. There were cheers all around. Apparently, they'd won.   
  
The pirate ship was twisted sideways at an awkward angle. It was going down. "Huzzah," Jack whispered, black eyes staring vacantly.  
  
He had no warning when the boot came flying at him; he barely jumped back in time to escape its sole in his face. The boot was attached to a leg, the leg to a pirate. It was only then that he looked around through the small opening, noticed the other pirates swinging or climbing on board, more than just a boarding party. Jack stood frozen for a moment, staring at them board the ship, then reached for the sword belted to his side. It was mostly for decoration- he'd never had to use it. But he knew how.   
  
Hopefully.   
  
He rushed to the door and ran up the stairs, brandishing his sword. The deck was a mass of people, swinging, shooting. For an instant he questioned his action, then threw himself into the throng. Before he could do much good- or do much of anything at all- the hilt of a sword hit his head hard. He fell back onto the ground, not getting so much of a glimpse of his attacker before fading into unconsciousness. 


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys all rock! Anyway, I messed around a bit with Chapter One (thanks, Anna Chronism, for your comments; they helped.), so head back there if you care to take a glance at the changes. And without further ado- CHAPTER TWO!   
  
Chapter Two  
  
The attack had been unfortunate.   
  
Nicholas Sparrow- captain of the Pamplona, one of the most feared pirate ships in the Caribbean- had heard of this new ship, heard of its cargo, and been determined to capture it.   
  
He hadn't heard of the massive amounts of weapons on board, or he may have decided against it.   
  
Sparrow held back a chuckle as he turned to the first mate who had hurried to his side. It was likely that he *wouldn't* have decided against it, even with the knowledge of the weaponry, and he knew it. At times he was foolhardy. But his instincts were never wrong. That was what made him a good pirate.   
  
That, and the luck that made him turn his head at the exact moment that a bullet whizzed by it. "What is it, Grant?"   
  
"We're taking on water, sir. The hold is filling up fast. We're going down."   
  
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Damn to the depths whoever created that ship."   
  
"Should I tell the men to retreat and pull out the long boats?"  
  
"That's as good as surrender, Grant. My crew will not surrender." He clinched his jaw, eyes on the battle before him. Then he blinked, an idea forming in his head. "Grant… We're switching ships."   
  
The first mate had no time to question him, for within a moment, Sparrow had jumped down from the quarter deck to the main, and was shouting orders at his men before Grant could blink.   
  
The captain smiled, eyes sweeping over the fine vessel. Ah, indeed, it was time to acquire a new ship.   
  
  
  
*  
  
At least he wasn't dead.   
  
Jack climbed to his feet shakily, steadying himself against the barrels he had fallen into. He picked up his sword, then took shaky steps toward the pirates on deck. There was no sign of his crewmen.   
  
"Looks like we missed one, Captain." Jack stiffened against the metal blade that appeared suddenly against his neck. The voice continued. "Well, well, boy, its time to join your friends."  
  
Jack took a step in the direction the man was trying to force him in, then ducked under the blade and swung to meet blades with the man. Before he could say a word, a gun cocked, and Jack slowly turned.   
  
"I'm commandeering this vessel. You have thirty seconds to get off with your comrades or I'll be sending you to the bottom of the ocean with a bullet in your heart, savvy?" Jack just blinked, mouth gaping. He stared up at the pirate from the dark circle of his shadow. He must be the captain, Jack thought, eyes wide. His braided red hair stuck out from his head like snakes ready to strike and his thick lips were pulled back, revealing gray teeth, in places replaced with gold. And his pistol was pointed right at Jack's heart. "Ten seconds left."  
  
"Wait!" Jack said. The captain cocked his head, but kept the pistol trained on Jack "Take me with you."   
  
*  
  
*Take me with you.*  
  
Sparrow had head those words many a time, from seemingly hundreds of different mouths. There was the occasional wench, smitten with his gold-toothed smile- and the gold he gave freely to those who pleased him. But more often than not, the plea came from the mouth of a boy or a man, a slave, a new sailor in the navy, or a disillusioned one, someone looking for a better deal than her Majesty was set to offer. Usually, the plea was ignored.  
  
Not this boy's.   
  
He was different, and Sparrow had known it the instant he'd set eyes upon him. It was in his voice, so desperate, and his eyes, so blisteringly passionate that he had almost dropped his gun when they met his own.   
  
The boy came along. That went without saying.   
  
Handy thing too, for the boy knew everything about the vessel they'd just commandeered. The Black Pearl. Fine name for a beauty of a ship. He'd helped build it, he claimed, sitting at the Captain's table, staring at him with those wide eyes. Sparrow was sure that was an exaggeration- he looked too scrawny to lift the plans for such a ship, much less any sort of building equipment.   
  
"And what help did you put in, boy?"  
  
"My name is Jack. Jack Reade. And my father designed this ship. Before you stole it-"  
  
"Not stole." He flashed a smile at Jack. "Commandeered."  
  
"Before you *commandeered* the Pearl, I was in negotiations with the captain to stay on as the master carpenter."  
  
"Is that so?" Sparrow shot back, not believing a word of what the boy said.   
  
"Yes, it *is* so."   
  
"Well, you may consider me grateful that a boy of your talents decided to join us instead."  
  
Jack smiled, sarcastically. "You know what they say. A pirate's life for me."  
  
Sparrow stood, barely containing his grin beneath his think rust-colored beard. He liked this boy already. "Let's wait till you've had a taste of it before saying that, shall we?" He held open the door, leading to the main deck. "So boy, give me a tour of this ship you designed."   
  
"Jack," he said, slipping by the captain. "My name is Jack."   
  
As the boy flounced down the hall, Sparrow shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Jack." 


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Ah, I love you guys! You all rock a lot. I am so dead tired right now; I just saw the Matches and Reel Big Fish and other bands in SF, and it was so much fun. Its not as if anyone really cares, but the lead singer of the Matches thinks that Jack Sparrow is cool and now wants to be him. He had a pirate-y earring and everything. So, "Shpickow!" (like NO ONE will get that) and read on and review.   
  
Chapter Three  
  
"See, the Black Pearl has a narrower hull and a shallower draft. It allows for far more speed and much greater maneuverability. But the design is like a galleon's- heavy artillery with a large hold. It wasn't designed as a Navy ship, but it could hold its own against any HMS I've ever come across."   
  
Sparrow blinked, thrown for a moment by the boy's explanation- and starting to believe his tale of building the magnificent ship. "It's a smart design… Your father's idea, boy?"  
  
Jack hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
He caught the hesitation, but didn't mention it. "You think ye can help out here on the Pearl?"   
  
"I know I can," was the cocky reply, followed by a smirk, and Sparrow felt the urge to laugh. Jack was cheeky, the exact kind of thing he shouldn't tolerate in a mere boy. But he was charming, he had to give him that.   
  
The tour had gone well. The ship was marvelously built, as he'd seen from the moment he spied it on the edge of the horizon. And the boy knew what he was talking about- and he was insanely dedicated to the ship, as shown by his wincing every time he found another crack in his precious Pearl.   
  
"Alright then. I'll give you a chance. But remember, we're naught but pirates- no fancy title or quarters will be given to ye. You'll work as hard as everyone else, and if I see one bit of slack, I'll toss ye onto the nearest spit of land."   
  
"You have a deal, Captain Sparrow."   
  
The two shook hands, and Sparrow gestured at one of the older pirates on deck. "That man over there is Simon Killigan. He'll teach ye what you need to know for now."  
  
"Aye, sir," Jack said, barely stopping himself from saluting like he would for an officer of his Majesty's navy. Then he looked at the captain, and immediately lost all of the brashness in his fine boned face. "Thank you, Captain."   
  
Sparrow laughed, the levity in his voice belying the sincerity in his eyes. "Don't thank me yet, Jack. You may yet dream for that spit of land." The boy nodded and moved to join Killigan, as Grant stepped to the captain's side. Sparrow looked over his shoulder at his first mate. "The boy's decided to go on account. Be sure he knows what he's gettin' into," he added with a wink.   
  
He and Grant shared a smile. "Aye, sir."  
  
*  
  
He hated it. Swabbing decks, tying knots, climbing the Godforsaken mast only to swing down and hit the deck like a stack of bricks. For an instant, Jack pondered whether he would have been better off with the original crew of the Pearl floating in the Caribbean Sea.   
  
That idea left a moment later. He would rather be marooned on any island than spend five minutes in a long boat with Lieutenant Marshall and his ego the size of the British Empire.   
  
Jack stepped into his cabin and stared around at his things, strewn across the floor. His possessions had obviously been searched, though he didn't know why they bothered- he had nothing of value. His clothes weren't suitable for piracy- the starched shirts and pointed shoes of a gentleman would be little use on a pirate ship- and his other things were mere knickknacks that held no value to anyone but him.   
  
His father's trunk was shoved up against the wall. It almost looked as though they'd missed it, except that the top was slightly ajar. Jack started towards it, then almost tripped over one of his blasted shoes. He picked up said shoe, and its partner- equally as evil- and threw them out of the hole in the hull. Perhaps the damage to the Pearl came in handy for something.   
  
He reached the trunk with no further mishap, and opened the top fully. He stared at the contents- old maps, old plans, a rusted pocket watch and a compass that hadn't worked in years. Jack fingered the pocket watch, then lifted the compass out with a wistful smile. A relic of his crippled father's sailing days. He flipped open the compass lid and stared at the needle, pointing southwest instead of north. What an inheritance. A compass that didn't work and a ship that wasn't his.   
  
Jack closed the compass lid with a sharp click, then smiled suddenly, wondering if the pirates had found their treasure yet.   
  
*  
  
"We've been through the captain's possessions and the items that were guarded the heaviest. There's no sign of it."  
  
"Everything has been searched?"  
  
"Everything. The men searched all night."  
  
Captain Sparrow shut his eyes and let out a loud, frustrated breath. All night they'd searched, and nothing. "It was on this ship when it left London, Grant."  
  
Grant bit his lip- a nervous gesture Sparrow supposed the man had picked up from him, after nearly ten years on the sea together- and shook his head. "Regardless, Captain, its not here."  
  
"Bloody hell!" It took him a moment to compose himself before speaking, and when he did, it was to change the topic. "So how is our young friend Mr. Reade doing?"   
  
Grant shook his head and smiled, and Sparrow raised a brow. It seemed the boy had charmed his first mate as well. "He'll need more than one day out with Killigan to learn the ropes."  
  
"Is anything sticking?"  
  
"I don't know how well… "   
  
Sparrow stood and walked to the door of his cabin. Jack was on deck, and he took the opportunity to actually *look* at the boy for the first time. His black hair fell a tad past his ears, slightly curling at the nape of his neck. His skin, pale and not used to the heavy winds of the Caribbean at this time of the year, was blotched with red, and the fine clothes he wore were streaked with dirt. He held himself awkwardly, listening to Killigan's instruction with a furrowed brow. The boy wasn't a natural sailor, that was for sure. But moment by moment, he was getting looser, body relaxing, keen black eyes catching everything the older pirate did.   
  
Grant's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Should we take it easy on him, ya think, Captain?"   
  
With a chuckle, Sparrow shoved open the door and stepped onto the deck. "Not on your life, Mr. Grant. Not on your life." 


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Reviews- on here, plus I've gotten a couple emails and instant messages- keep coming in and I am so delighted. Words cannot express how much I thank you guys! Also, Kai asked how I knew ship stuff… A little research and guesswork. I found some ship designs, but the Pearl didn't really fit any of them, so I figured I'd make her a special design. I'm no sailor, so if anything sounds off, please let me know and I'll fix it. Yeah, so on with the story.   
  
Chapter Four  
  
The sun rose bright and clear, and Nicholas Sparrow woke with a smile. He carried the smile as he hoisted a bucket of water, and carried it down the stairs. Grant had asked if they should take it easy on the boy. The captain allowed himself a chuckle as he opened the door to the cabin Jack was occupying. If there was one thing he'd learned as the captain of a ship such as the Pamplona, it was that you never take it easy on the promising ones. The same went here on the Black Pearl, and Jack was nothing if not promising.   
  
The cold water landed directly on the boy's face. He sat up, sputtering and clutching the sopping blanket. "Gah! What was that for?"   
  
"Get your things; you're moving."  
  
"But-"   
  
"So you think a new member of this crew will get his own cabin? I think not."   
  
Jack blinked, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. "But… what about the hole?"  
  
It seemed like the most unlikely thing to say, especially since the boy was sopping wet, black hair plastered against his head, and he had just been ordered out of his cabin. But it made perfect sense to Jack- Sparrow could see it in his eyes. "You can get to work patching that as soon as you finish moving your things to your bunk in the forecastle. When you're done with that, report back to Killigan. Let's hope that you can put your knowledge to good use, boy."  
  
Jack stood, swaying a tad as he nodded. "Aye, Captain." He reached down and lifted his worn old chest, carrying it out without another word.   
  
The captain watched the boy sashay along the narrow hall, clothes and hair dripping puddles as he walked along. As soon as Jack disappeared, Sparrow started to laugh, a rich sound that he hadn't heard for a while, and plunked down on the bed.   
  
The laughter abruptly stopped as cold water soaked into his breeches. Sparrow sighed and kicked the bucket away. "Bloody hell…"   
  
*  
  
"No, no, boy! This piece goes through the loop, then over, not under! If you can't learn to tie a simple knot, there's no hope for you."   
  
Jack grunted and retied the knot. "Is that better, Mr. Killigan?"   
  
The grizzled old man tugged on the knot, then nodded. "A wee bit perhaps."   
  
Jack straightened and stretched, taking a moment to glance up at the Captain and Mr. Grant, conversing over a compass and a map at the ships wheel. They seemed to be charting out a course, deciding where to go next. Perhaps there was a merchant vessel they were after, or a hidden treasure? Before he could weave anymore tales in his mind, Killigan slapped his shoulder.   
  
"Keep your mind on this deck, boy!" Jack nodded, and Killigan pointed to the next knot to be tied in the endless line of rigging. He began to refasten it, not making any mistakes in the knotting. Killigan nodded approvingly. "You learn quick."   
  
"Thank you," Jack replied, mind on his work. Then, as he caught the hang of it, he asked, "How long have you been at this, Killigan?"  
  
The older man snickered. "Far as I can remember, going on twenty years. Long and dangerous road, it is."  
  
"What about the captain?"   
  
Killigan shook his head and shot a look up at Sparrow, who was still deep in conversation with Grant. "Time runs differently out here. I think we've all lost track of how long its been." Jack nodded, following his gaze. The captain's hair blew wildly around his face, which was drawn in concentration. Jack opened his mouth to ask another question, but Killigan cut him off. "Don't go meddlin' and asking questions, boy. Let the captain have his secrets. We all do."  
  
Jack nodded and finished the last knot. He'd been with this crew for less than three days, and he already knew that. 


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: The last chapter was short (Sorry about that, btw…). This one's not. I'm not entirely sure why I did that. Thanks for all the reviews. I love you guys!   
  
Chapter Five  
  
"Mitchell must have taken the logs before we boarded the ship. Or destroyed them. Blast that man."   
  
Grant chuckled. "You know, Captain, it would have been easier to search them had we taken them captive."   
  
Sparrow waved off the accusation. "Easier to search them, yes. Also easier to have to feed them, and easier to have them escape. Logistics, man."   
  
Grant laughed and propped his feet up on Sparrow's desk, a habit he was long accustomed to. "Surely it would've made the coming season much more profitable if we'd gotten those shipping logs."   
  
"We'll make do, Thomas. We always do."  
  
Grant narrowed his eyes at the captain's use of his first name, and his obvious understatement. Make do? They'd looted enough ships to live five lives of luxury, and they both knew it. "You're in odd humor tonight, Nicholas," Grant said, echoing back the informality.   
  
"What haven't I got to be happy about? Those logs weren't the true prize anyhow- we have a new ship, a fine crew, and a full season of plunder ahead." He smiled and leaned back against in his chair. "Well, just as soon as we stop off in Tortuga for some supplies."  
  
Grant reached for the bottle of rum on the table, shaking his salt and pepper head. "Should have known as soon as you set course due south." The smile grew across his face, and he took a long drink. "Tortuga."   
  
*  
  
It meant Turtle Island. Jack's rudimentary French told him that much. His history- much less rudimentary, as it was one of his passions- told him that for years, Tortuga had been the piratical capitol of the Caribbean, home to the bloodthirsty criminals that terrorized the sea. He chuckled. Home to his crewmates.   
  
Tiny figures skittered around on shore as they rowed toward the dock and with every stroke of the oars, the forms became more defined, becoming people. Becoming pirates.  
  
Jack's heart sped up. He didn't know what he had gotten himself into, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like it much.   
  
The captain seemed to read his mind. "You'll get used to it, boy. I'll tell you this much- everyone feels at home in Tortuga. It's the company," he said, and winked.   
  
They reached the dock as the sun was dipping below the horizon. The captain pushed his hat over his thick red hair and grinned. "We shove off tomorrow at noon. You aren't here, we leave you. Now get going, you dogs!"   
  
The men piled out of the boat, leaving the captain, Grant and Jack, hanging back, uncertain of what to do. "Captain, I'll look into getting supplies, and meet you in the morning."   
  
"We'll meet at noon, Grant. I have things to attend to in the morning." Sparrow tucked the parcel he'd brought on board under his coat, then looked to Jack. "Well, boy? What are you waiting for?"   
  
"I don't… I mean-"  
  
"You don't know what to do." Sparrow didn't wait for an answer before laughing. Jack let out a breath and folded his arms across his chest. There was no use in denying it, but he didn't have to outright admit that he was completely clueless as to where he was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do. "Ah, boy…"   
  
Jack bit back on a retort and Sparrow went on. "Come with me. I have business in town and I'll show you to the inn. The boys are surely there, and they'll take fine care of you."   
  
Jack snorted. He didn't doubt it.  
  
Tortuga was a mess. The first thing he thought of as he saw the people running wildly through the streets, smelled the ale, sweat and blood in the air, was what Lieutenant Marshall would think. The picture of the strict man's face nearly had him laughing out loud, and got him through the foul and busy streets without throwing up.  
  
The inn was ramshackle, two stories, beaten bricks and broken windows just adding to the atmosphere. Raucous laughter crashed out of the building, shielding some sort of music. Jack swallowed, then looked up at the captain. "You aren't joining us inside?"  
  
Sparrow shook his head. "I have things to attend to." He winked, a sideways grin appearing. "Have fun."   
  
Jack nodded tightly and climbed the stairs. He hesitated at the door, then pulled it open and he was suddenly transported. Anything he could have imagined didn't meet the whorl of color and noise that pulled him in like a hurricane.   
  
Cheap cologne surrounded him as the whores rushed to his side. Their kohl darkened eyes appraised him shrewdly as their hands roamed across his chest. "Such a handsome young man…" one of the cooed, her hand slipping lower.  
  
It was removed forcibly before it got below his belt. "Now you don't want to be doing that, missy." Jack looked up to see Killigan wrest his coin pouch from the whore. The wenches scattered as he gave the pouch back to Jack. "Watch yourself around these women, boy. They'll steal you blind if you give them half the chance." Killigan patted him on the back and pushed him toward a table. "Look what I found."  
  
"Well, its little Jack. How goes it, boy?"   
  
Jack stared at the pirates at the table as he sat slowly down. They barely looked familiar; he knew only one name. Which left him to just smile at the man who'd addressed him and say, "Very well, thank you. And yourself?"   
  
There was a chorus of guffaws all around. "Marvelous performance with the ladies. One would think you were a virgin," the one across from him said.  
  
"I am not a virgin! I've just never been in a place such as this."  
  
"There are no other places such as this!" Killigan laughed. "You need to find yourself a pretty girl, mate. Nothin' beats a Caribbean woman!"   
  
"I thought you said they'd rob you blind?" Jack muttered.   
  
They all laughed at that. The one to his left- who's name he wasn't sure of- grinned and sunk his teeth into an apple as he glanced around the tavern. "How 'bout that one?" he asked after swallowing the mouthful.   
  
Jack looked over at the girl he'd pointed out. She surely was pretty enough, dark blond hair swept back into a braid. She'd been working, so tendrils of her hair had slipped out, curling gently around her delicate face. Her dress seemed… plain next to the ones the whores at the door had been wearing, but it didn't matter. The company of a pretty wench would be better than that of the men.   
  
With an unsure look, he rose from the table and crossed the room, threading his way through the crowd to get to where the girl stood, polishing the counter. She turned around when he stopped behind her and raised a brow. "Can I help you?"   
  
He had no idea what to say. He'd never propositioned a whore before. What was one supposed to say, he wondered, as he stood in stony silence. "I… I was thinking I could buy you a drink."   
  
The brow went up again over her skeptical green eye. "Were you?"  
  
It threw him for a second. "Yes. Uh… I'm in for the night and I thought we could… I have money, and-"  
  
The slap rang through the air, drowning out the rest of his proposition. The girl stormed off, heels clicking on the wooden floor with startling finality. Jack retreated to their table, lowering himself into his chair as his companions laughed. "What did I do to deserve that?"  
  
The man with the apple smiled innocently. "Did I forget to mention? That's the inn keeper's daughter. She doesn't take too kindly to pirates." 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six   
  
There were few places in Tortuga that didn't specialize in women or alcohol. Most of those were locked up tight by sunset, and this was no exception. Captain Sparrow got to the door just as the sun was dipping below the horizon and just in time to slip in before closing. He looked fierce enough to give the boy working a chill, but the people knew him here. He'd long since been a customer, even though he didn't have much use for freshly baked bread and cakes- such things spoiled quickly and drew rats from the bilge into the habitable parts of the ship. No, he was after something warmer than freshly baked bread and sweeter than cake.  
  
He found her wiping down a long, scarred table in the back. Her black hair was pulled back into a presentable bun, but it was falling down after a day of work. He smiled, eyes running over her caramel skin and soft curves appreciatively.   
  
As though she sensed his presence- which in fact, she might have, he thought with a widening of his smile- she straightened and turned. He took off his hat and said softly, "Isabella."  
  
"Captain." She nodded a greeting, then looked back to her work. When he didn't move, she looked up and sighed. "I heard you have a new ship."  
  
"Yes. The Black Pearl… She's a beauty, though the Pamplona held a more personal appeal…" Bella colored prettily, remembering, and Sparrow smiled. "How go things here?"  
  
"Things are fine… Business has been slow, but it was hard winter. Not much money to be found, especially in a city of scoundrels."   
  
"And how is the girl?"  
  
"She's healthy," Bella replied, not looking him in the eye. "She inquires about you often."   
  
"Tell her I'll be by in the morning. I have a gift for her."  
  
Bella's hand clinched on the rag she held, drops of brownish water falling onto the gleaming surface of the table. "She doesn't need gifts. She needs a father."   
  
"I know that." He paused. "I'll be by in the morning. It's all I can do." He moved to leave, pushing his hat back on his head.   
  
"Wait," she called. "Where are you staying tonight?"   
  
"I thought to go back to the ship, or to the inn."   
  
She sighed, shaking her head. "Just come home with me. It's been too long, Nicholas."   
  
He nodded. "That it has."   
  
*  
  
The men had found their whores. It had taken a bar fight to decide who would be sleeping with who, but once it was decided, Jack's "friends" disappeared into rooms, and the occasional bump or scream from upstairs assured Jack that they, at least, were enjoying themselves. He, on the other hand… Well, he had rum, and with each gulp of it, he liked it more and more.   
  
A flurry of gray skirts announced the arrival of the girl at his table, and Jack glared at her mercilessly. She just grinned. "You look utterly miserable."  
  
"That must make you happy."   
  
She went on as though she hadn't heard him. "A bar fight, a slap, and plenty of rum… Fitting for your first night in Tortuga."   
  
"What makes you say this is my first night here?"  
  
"You stick out like a sore thumb. You're too clean, for one." He shifted in his clean clothes as she laughed. "You're no pirate."   
  
She moved to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. "Give me time," he said, and winked.   
  
*  
  
Noon rolled around. Captain Sparrow walked to the dock leisurely. Despite his warnings, the crew was always late. They were pirates, after all. Most of them had arrived by the time he got to the dock, and Grant had them loading supplies onto the longboats.   
  
Grant approached him shortly after he arrived. "Cap'n." Sparrow acknowledged him with a nod, and continued watching the men load the boats. "How's Isabella?"  
  
"She's well."  
  
"The girl?"   
  
Few people would ask that question. Few people knew enough about Captain Nicholas Sparrow to know to ask it. "The very image of her mother. A beauty already at six." He sighed. "She's six years old and I've seen her a handful of times… I'm surprised she remembers me."   
  
"You're unforgettable," Grant replied with a sympathetic smile.   
  
"Thank you, Thomas." He patted his friend on the shoulder, a signal that the conversation was over. They lapsed into silence until Sparrow noticed something. "Where's Jack?"   
  
Grant shook his head, then called out, "Mr. Killigan! Where be Jack?"   
  
Killigan paused in his work to shake his head. "Last I saw he was in the tavern, Cap'n."  
  
Barbossa- who was far too snide, and a troublemaker to boot- snorted and elbowed Killigan. "Poor boy was making eyes at Kittie Barlow. I don't know if he'll return alive."   
  
Sparrow and Grant exchanged a look and a sigh. "This boy is going to be more trouble than he's worth, isn't he, Cap'n?"   
  
Sparrow shook his head, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. "Seems so, Thomas. It seems so." 


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: Cassandra mentioned plot in her review. This story is more… picaresque. I have a resolution in mind, and there is a storyline (one with conflict and all that) coming up. But I got caught up in back story, and made seven pretty short chapters out of what could have been two or three. I get wordy (see this author's note?). Ooh, also… Big, huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed. You guys are my inspiration to continue. Sorry this update took forever, but I've been busy. Classes started. Ugh. The next one will be quicker, I swear.   
  
Chapter Seven  
  
He woke pleasantly, surrounded in warmth and softness, drifting in and out of consciousness. After a few moments of lying in oblivion, he tried to open his eyes, only to find himself blinded by dim light, filtering in through a window somewhere high above him.   
  
A laugh from beside him drew his eyes to the right, and therewas the girl from the night before- Kittie, he dimly recalled someone calling her- propped up on a bare elbow. In fact, quite a lot of her was bare, as she was in her nightgown. And after a moment or tow of staring, he realized he was shirtless and tucked neatly under the covers of what must be her bed.   
  
"You, sir, are a charming drunk." Kittie laughed pleasantly as he stared at her, wide-eyed.   
  
"Charming enough to get you into bed?"   
  
Her eyes narrowed, but the smile remained. "Not quite, little Jack. But pleasant enough so that I didn't throw you into the gutter when you passed out on my floor."   
  
"Oh…"  
  
"Disappointed?"  
  
"Not in the slightest," he replied stiffly, and tried to sit up, only to have his head and stomach spin, swirling up to meet in his throat. He choked back bile and squeezed his eyes shut.   
  
"A little too much rum last night, I'd say." He glared at her through slit eyes, but she just stood and pulled a robe over the thin nightgown. "I've never understood why men drink so much of it when it causes such a headache in the morning."   
  
"I'm not the one to ask," he said, edging slowly into a sitting position. "I don't think I'll ever take another drink of that awful liquor."  
  
Kittie laughed. "That's not the talk of a pirate, Jack." She headed to the door, calling back over her shoulder, "I'll get you some breakfast, and lets see if you can hold it down."  
  
He nodded, even though she couldn't see him and set about looking for his shirt and boots. Before he could make more than one sluggish movement, the door clicked shut and Kittie was facing him again, tan face paling.   
  
"My father's coming."   
  
"Your father…" Jack cringed, knowing that that didn't bode well for his future.   
  
"We have to get you out of here," Kittie said, tossing him his shirt. He pulled it on over his head and nodded agreement. "The window." She grabbed the desk and began dragging it over, then gave him a harsh look. "Help me!" With a grimace, he hopped off the bed- and was rewarded with another flip-flop of the stomach- and the two pulled the desk under the window. He climbed on top of it and looked out. It wasn't *too* big of a drop, only ten feet or so…   
  
"Hurry up!" Kittie's voice snapped him back to reality and he scrambled through the window, feet first, his elbows on the sill and hands grasping Kittie's.   
  
"Thank you," he said softly. She smiled and opened her mouth to say something. Then the door came crashing open and Kittie let go and gave him a little shove. He didn't have time to cry out as he toppled from the window sill onto the ground below.   
  
He hit the ground hard, right leg buckling beneath him as he crashed onto the gravel surrounding the inn. He crouched there for a moment, until a soft chuckle made him look up in alarm.   
  
The captain stood above him, hands on hips, lips turned up in amusement. "We missed you at the dock."   
  
"I was detained," Jack muttered, struggling to stand.   
  
Sparrow reached out a hand, and hauled Jack to his feet. "You have the worst luck, boy."   
  
"You don't have to tell me that," he said, wincing as he took a step on his leg. "I already know."   
  
*  
  
The night sky over the sea shimmered, a velvet canopy encrusted with stars. Their light reflected off the water, bouncing every which way. The water lapped against the side of the Pearl calmly, a steady beat, reassuring, like a lullaby. Jack could be content with listening to it all night, leaning against the railing and staring off into the night.   
  
He should be sleeping. After getting on the ship- and taking a fair amount of jealous teasing from that cad Barbossa- he'd gone straight to work, headache pounding harder and harder in his head as he attempted to fix the holes these blasted pirates had made in the hull. Finally, work had ceased for a time, but morning was going to come far too soon after one of the longest days of his life. Despite it, he couldn't tear himself away from the starlit sea.   
  
A rough voice beside him snapped him out of his thoughts. "How go the repairs?"  
  
Jack turned his head and smiled tightly at the approaching captain. "They're going well… There wasn't much major damage to the hull; all she needs is a little patching. I'll finish it tomorrow, sir."   
  
"Good. It wouldn't do if she needed full repairs, not with the season upon us." The captain moved to his side, leaning against the railing and staring out as he had. A moment went by before he asked, "Its magical, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, sir, it is."   
  
"Why are you on this ship, Jack?"  
  
"I've told you-"  
  
"The truth, boy. You weren't going to stay on that crew in any capacity, were you?"   
  
Jack didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, he kept his eyes cast down, away from Sparrow. "My father was a sailor, you know. He was injured when I was but an infant… But in his glory days, he fought pirates. And now I'm becoming one." Jack chuckled, fists clinched on the rail. "I was going to be thrown off the ship the moment we reached Port Royal. Mitchell said I wasn't cut out for it. But I am. I know every nook and cranny of this ship. I know that if you let the sail out at just the right time, she'll fly. And if you push her- she'd take you to the end of the earth and into Tartarus."  
  
"She means a great deal to you."  
  
"She got me out of England. She set me free." Jack stared for a moment into the black water, remembering England. Remembering every little thing he hated about that place. Then he looked back up at Sparrow and smiled. "And how did you get your start, Captain?"   
  
"Why, I was born a pirate, cutlass in one hand, bottle o' rum in the other!"   
  
Jack laughed, but didn't let up. "I'm serious. What lead you here?"  
  
The captain shook his head and pushed off of the rail. "Leave it be, boy. Better that you don't know."   
  
As Sparrow walked away, Jack sighed. "It's Jack, not 'boy'. My name is Jack." Then he turned back and stared into the water, mind on family, freedom- and the solitary figure climbing back up to the quarter deck, head bowed as if in prayer. 


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Thanks again to everyone for reviewing. Sorry these updates have been taking me so long! Anyway, read on…and please review.   
  
Chapter Eight  
  
If there was going to be a battle everyday, Jack decided that he didn't want to be a pirate.   
  
They'd been out on the open sea for less than a week, perusing the shipping lanes for a merchant ship or two. The first hadn't been a problem- it was poorly defended and surrendered the goods it was in the process of shipping to Port Royal. This ship was going to give them a harder time, as it was *not* poorly defended- ships belonging to the British Navy rarely were, after all. They hadn't waited for the pirates to attack- the moment the Pearl was in range, it had a brand new hole blown in its port side.   
  
That, as well as the sword that had sliced through Jack's already fraying shirt and almost into his skin, was making it very easy for him to rethink this brilliant idea of piracy.   
  
He was losing his fight; the naval officer he was dueling with backing him into a corner. That wouldn't do- he had to be alive to quit being a pirate. Jack swung his sword, parrying a blow that would have ran him through, then pushed the man backward with a kick, a feeble attempt to get out of the corner he was trapped in. It wasn't quite enough, however, and a moment later, Jack found himself disarmed and at the mercy of the naval officer.  
  
Before the officer could run him through, a shot rang out and a red stain blossomed at the man's heart. He blinked, then collapsed, leaving in his place a scowling Barbossa holding the smoking pistol. He drew his sword and shook his head. "You, boy, need to learn how to fight instead of being thrown out of windows by barkeeps."  
  
Jack snatched up his sword and followed the older boy into the fray. "Thrown out windows? What are you talking about?"   
  
Barbossa groaned as he ducked a blow. "Tortuga. Old Mister Barlow catching you with Kittie… Did the fall damage your brain?"   
  
"What in the world gave you that idea?" Jack paused in confusion for a moment, then moved to the side in time to dodge a falling pirate, and stabbed the navy man who had killed him before chasing after Barbossa.  
  
Only to see that he was boarding the Navy ship, swinging onboard and running into the battle on the smaller ship's deck.   
  
His eye was distracted then as he noticed the commander on board the Navy ship, standing at the head of the quarter deck, shouting orders, his own sword drawn, and looking nothing less than dignified in his white powdered wig and fine clothes.  
  
Lieutenant Marshall.  
  
Jack froze. The former crew of the Pearl must have been picked up by another ship and gone after them. And now they were here, Jack's new crewmates and old fighting against each other. It was enough to make his head spin. He forced his eyes away from the commander, then looked to the deck. Slowly he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.  
  
In the middle of the deck, Barbossa was surrounded, five men making a half circle around him, trapping him against the mast. The pirate- from what Jack had seen- was a good fighter, but the alarm at being out numbered five to one was showing on his face.   
  
Jack groped for the rope above him, then stood shakily on the rail. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swung.   
  
There was nothing beneath him but water. The ground had disappeared for a moment, leaving nothing but the blue-green depths that would swallow him whole if he slipped. He forced himself to open his eyes, forced himself to stretch out and let go, slamming his legs into two of Barbossa's attackers. They fell and so did Jack, crumpling on the deck.   
  
He got to his feet rather quickly, he thought, and drew his cutlass, attacking the man to his left. He was obviously unprepared and young to boot; Jack was able to disarm him, then disable him with a blow to the head. He then turned to see that Barbossa had finished his remaining two opponents. He gave him a shaky smile and Barbossa shook his head.   
  
"Perhaps you will be of use."   
  
"You saved my life, I saved yours."  
  
"We're square- for now."   
  
Jack nodded and the two turned to face the battle, only to realize that most of it was over- the pirates seemed to have emerged victorious. Barbossa strode forward to the quarter deck and neatly took the lieutenant's sword, and gave him a push down the stairs.   
  
In the middle of the ship, Marshall met the captain.   
  
Jack couldn't say where Sparrow had come from, whether he had been part of the battle, or if he'd crossed the narrow channel between the ships after the worst of it was over. Jack assumed it was the former- he couldn't see Nicholas Sparrow waiting idly by for the battle to end.   
  
"Lieutenant Marshall." Sparrow grinned pleasantly, hands resting on his hips lightly. "I assume you've come for my Pearl."   
  
"That ship is property of proper English merchants, Sparrow, and I will have it back if it's the last thing I do," Marshall said curtly, face flushing with anger. Before Jack knew what was happening, Marshall drew his pistol. As quickly as it was aimed at Sparrow, it was thrown to the side, the force of Sparrow's blade- drawn much quicker than the gun- coming to bear on Marshall's wrist. It was the dull side, luckily enough for the man, and he kept his hand, if not his gun.   
  
"You had better pray that there be no more pirates in these waters, Lieutenant," Sparrow said, then ordered over his shoulder, "Load the powder onto our ship; we can always do with some extra supplies. Disable the rudder and burn the sails." Barbossa nodded and moved to carry out his orders.   
  
Marshall was fuming under his wig. "You should pray as well- that you die in battle before you are hung for the murderous blackheart that you are."   
  
Sparrow pressed his hand to his heart, as though he'd been wounded. "A murderous blackheart? You overestimate me. My heart isn't black; its just a very dark shade of gray."   
  
The crew laughed- the menacing, hearty laugh of the pirate, the laugh Jack had already identified as false- and continued loading the goods from the ship onto the Pearl, while Jack stood at the edge of the deck and watched.   
  
It was a picture out of a storybook- Captain Sparrow's red hair glinting in the sunlight, cutlass throwing beams of light into Marshall's squinting black eyes. The dashing pirate defeats the virtuous seaman. Jack would have allowed himself a laugh if his heart hadn't been pounding in his throat.   
  
This was his chance. He could stay onboard, return to England, still a gentleman, a little wiser and reputation none the worse for wear. He could give up the last few days, with its rum and whores and work.   
  
The moment lasted forever, the commotion on deck stilling as too many thoughts flew through Jack's mind. He looked around the deck at Sparrow's men- Killigan, Grant, Barbossa- men he'd met over the past few days and almost wholly disliked. And then, he looked at Sparrow, arrogant and smiling, and staring directly at him over Marshall's shoulder. And then he knew what he had to do.   
  
Jack nodded, almost imperceptibly, and it seemed that the captain's smile widened, just a bit. Sparrow broke eye contact and looked back to Marshall. "You, my friend, will always remember this as the day I took your ship a second time. Don't try for a third, savvy?"   
  
Marshall didn't seem intimidated. "I will have my ship back, Sparrow. *Savvy*?"   
  
The captain laughed heartily at the mockery. "Back on the Pearl, boys!" Sparrow ordered as the last barrel was rolled across to the Pearl and the sails were torched.   
  
Jack laughed along with his captain, then grabbed the rope and swung back to the Pearl. He let go of the rope early, and landed hard and off balance on deck, almost falling. A moment later, Captain Sparrow landed beside him. "Weigh anchor and hoist the sails!"   
  
A chorus of "Aye, sir's!" came from around the deck and Jack joined them tentatively. Sparrow's hand landed on his shoulder for a brief moment and the two shared a smile. Then the hand was gone and so was the captain, leaving Jack to ponder his decision- and how he was ever going to survive it. 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: It has been almost three years since I've updated this story. That's just insane. Uh, so… If anyone remembers this story… Here's the next chapter! I think I may do a massive rewrite. I don't know. So… Three years later, we continue…

_Chapter Nine_

_Eight years later…_

There was a dot on the horizon. Most eyes would have missed it, but not his. The red rimmed eyes narrowed, focusing on that tiny dot far out to sea. Out came the spyglass from his belt and he focused it out to the east. The dot instantly became a ship, and the eyes widened.

He tucked the spyglass into his belt again, and swung out of the lookout with ease. He climbed down the rope ladder, jumping the last couple feet and hitting the ground with a thud. Without pausing, he swiftly climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck, and half saluted the man that stood before him.

"Sir, a ship. Navy sloop. To the East."

"Hostile?"

"Will be once they identify us," he said, grinning cheekily.

Grant grimaced. "Fetch the captain."

The grin faltered. "Is that necessary, sir?"

"I'll get him myself. Stay here." Grant shook his head as he walked down to the captain's cabin.

"Still questioning your superiors, Reade?"

Jack grinned. "You're my superior, bos'n, and I never stopped questioning you."

Barbossa glared, then grabbed the spyglass from Jack's belt, searching for the ship. Jack didn't even bother to look over at him. "A tad more to the East, Barbossa."

Barbossa shot him a look, then found the ship. Slowly he lowered the glass, blinking. "Is that the _Victoria_?"

"I do believe so."

His mouth opened, but all that came out was a gasped, "Bloody hell…"

"Fitting. That's where she'll be sending us, right quick if we let her."

Barbossa just stared into the distance, watching the cream-colored sails and massive black hull take concrete shape. "We better not let her."

Jack grinned, clapping his friend on the back. "Cheer up, Barbossa! We're not going to die. Not today."

Before Barbossa could reply, the captain called out, "What are we seeing, men?"

Barbossa spun around. "Navy sloop, cap'n. The _Victoria_."

Sparrow grabbed the spyglass from Barbossa's hand and found the sloop without any trouble. "Well."

"We can out run her if the winds are right," Barbossa said quickly.

"Afraid, bosun?" Jack replied, eyes on the horizon.

Barbossa glared at him, but addressed the captain. "She's got a reputation for pirate-killing, sir."

Jack scoffed. "And we've got a reputation for fighting, not running away."

Barbossa cocked his head, smiled cruelly. "The fight might damage the ship, Jack."

Jack's brow furrowed. "You have a point." He paused, then nodded. "We should definitely run away."

"Grant!" Sparrow bellowed, eyes flashing and ready to throttle the two young men. He shoved the spyglass into Barbossa's hands. "Find me some real pirates and ready the ship for attack!"

"Aye, sir!" Grant pushed Jack, who bumped into Barbossa, and gestured for them to head down the stairs.

The two ran down the stairs, Grant yelling behind them, the crew milling about in a frenzy. Jack shook his head. "Damn fool pirates."

Barbossa grinned. "Jack, with that attitude, we should have left ye at sea."

"And where would you be if you did? Dead, five times over."

Barbossa's grin soured and he shook his head. "I don't have time for your nonsense, boy," he muttered and began walking away.

"You wound me, bos'n! Lord knows what you'd do without-" The end of his sentence was cut off by cannon fire. Jack spun around. "They're already that close?"

Barbossa was back at his side. "She's fast. Damn fast…"

"We're faster."

"And we're moving _toward_ her. This doesn't bode well." Barbossa stared out at the ship, which was nowhere near close enough to hit them. "It was a warning shot… I think they want us to surrender."

Jack laughed, open and full, head back, wind in his hair, and knew that he looked the perfect pirate. "I think they're in for a surprise."

Barbossa shook his head. "You look like you're posing for a portrait." He moved away quickly, shouting orders to the crew surrounding them.

Jack watched him, then jumped into the fray. It came easily. Readying the guns, tying those impossible knots, rushing below to find more gunpowder… It all felt natural to him now, like breathing. It had been eight years, and it had taken the full time for him to admit that Mitchell had been right. He wasn't cut out for the navy.

He was the perfect pirate.

The _Victoria_ wasn't just fast. The _Victoria_, as far as Jack could tell, was perfect. They met in the water, cannons thundering, in less than fifteen minutes. The _Pearl_ struck the _Victoria_ first, and Jack grinned, showing off teeth that were still too straight for a pirate, but one couldn't just pull out one's teeth all at once.

"Barbossa!" Jack called out to his friend. "You see any officers on deck?"

"I think that redhead from the _Pimple_ is serving as a lieutenant," Barbossa called back.

Jack grinned at the nickname they had given the _Postulo_, the pustule of the sea. They'd sunk it the year before and left the crew adrift. Apparently, some had survived. "Anyone else we know?"

"Oh-ho, Jackie. Marshall on deck."

Jack grinned, and stole back his spyglass. Sure enough, there was Marshall.

"Reade, we're about to engage! Get yer mind on the battle!"

Jack continued to smile and wiggled a loose tooth with his tongue. He tucked the spyglass back into his belt. This was going to be interesting.


End file.
